Camp Winchester
by Skysalla
Summary: Who needs summer camp when you have Camp Winchester?


AN: I own nothing.

This came out of a cracked comment and the evil plot bunnies that live in my head. Betaed by my ever awesome roommate MusicalLuna. :D

o0o0o0o0o

"Deeeeeeeeeaaaaaan!"

He could hear Sammy's whine from across the room where his brother's face was pressed against the window. "I wanna go camp with Dad!"

"We can't." Dean flipped the pages of the Batman comic he'd bummed off another kid three states ago. "Quit askin' already."

His six-year-old brother turned away from the half-frosted window. "How come?"

"Cause I got a cold," he lied, forcing a sniffle to go along with it.

"But we could have a fire!" Sam threw his arms up in demonstration. The jerking movement of his entwined left arm was just enough pull on the threadbare and far-too-old curtains to pull the ratty things free from the rod with a loud tear. The curtains dropped, burying Sam beneath them.

"Great job, pipsqueak," Dean muttered as he flipped the page of the book again. He shifted his weight in the chair and was just starting to get comfortable in the new position when he heard Sam's muffled shout. "It's a freakin' curtain!" He threw the magazine down on the table and stomped across the room. "It's not like you're off fighting black dogs and shit."

It took him and the squirming pile of rotting curtain several minutes to expose the mop headed little brother underneath. When Sam was free Dean threw the curtain on the nearby armchair and went back to his comic.

Sam waited just until Dean found his place among the well-known pictures to ask his question. "People fight black dogs?"

He froze, his hand hovering over the edge of the page. "What?"

"Does Dad fight black dogs?" Sam had made his way across the room now and was resting his hands and chin on the arm of Dean's chair.

Dean tossed the comic back on the table, it wasn't like he could read much of it anyways. He scrambled for an excuse as he turned to Sam. "No."

"Then what?"

"Black bears, dufus." He nodded. "Big, black bears. They attack campers and tear all their bags open and steal the food." Sam's eyes went wider as Dean went on. "People have to fight them off by throwing rocks and hoping the bear doesn't use his big sharp teeth or big sharp claws."

Sam's hands found their way around Dean's waist and his little brother's face buried itself in his shirt. "What about Dad?"

"Dad's a pro camper. He knows all the tricks to fight off black bears." He tried to push Sam off him. "But that's why we can't go camping with him. Black bears love to eat little kids."

Sam shifted against him before pulling back. "Can we go camping here? Tommy said he had a camping trip in his living room."

Dean looked back at his comic but suddenly didn't feel inclined to look at a bunch of illustrations he'd seen six dozen times before. "Fine, go get that curtain."

Sam ran to the other side of the room, gathering up the curtain in his tiny arms. Dean was shoving his comic back in his duffel when a shrill voice made him jump. "Dean! What if the bear comes in?"

"Don't be stupid."

"But bears can open doors! Remember?" Sam pulled back and looked Dean intensely in the eyes.

"What?"

"They had a whole house, 'member Goldilocks?" Sam's eyes went wide again.

"Those were brown bears."

"But aren't they like…cousins?" He rushed back across the room with his arms full of curtain. "Can't they both use doors?"

"Black bears can only open one door a day. It's the black bear code of conduct."

"Coda-what duck?"

"I dunno." Dean grabbed the curtain and took them into the bathroom. "But we can set up camp in here, okay? Keep all the black bears away."

"What about brown bears?"

"They live in their own houses, you think they're gonna bother with us?"

Sam seemed to think about this a moment before decisively shaking his head no. He quickly gathered up his own duffel and lugged it into the bathroom. Dean followed behind with his own.

"Lock the door, Dean!"

Dean complied, locking the door before turning and unraveling the balled up curtain. "Find something heavy."

He tied the curtain in a knot to the towel bar and tugged. He knew his knots were good though, they were the very knots Dad had taught him to tie.

"What should I do with it?" Sam held up a school book he'd found in Dean's duffel.

"Here, on the counter." Dean pulled the curtain across the small bathroom and laid it out across the counter. Sam promptly placed the book where Dean pointed. The two boys ducked back under the curtain and sat on the floor knee to knee. "There, a tent."

Sam leaned back and stared at the underside of their tent. "Wow."

Dean leaned back against the cabinet and smiled. He felt a tickle in his nose and before he could stop it his whole body shook with the sneeze.

"Dean, your cold!" Sam grabbed at Dean. "We need fire!"

He'd forgotten, but Sam was right. What was a camping trip without a proper fire after all? He pulled the duffels towards him and started pulling rolled up socks out and throwing them at Sam. "Make a circle."

"Circles are hard."

"I know, just try." He kept digging through the bags as Sam diligently laid out a circle next to them. When Sam was finished Dean grinned. "That's a great circle, Sammy."

Sam smiled and Dean handed him an old, ratty orange tee shirt Sam had worn in a soccer game and one of Dad's red ties. "Here, start a fire."

"A fire?"

"It's okay Sammy, you made a fire ring." He nodded at the circle of socks before shifting to get the cupboard open. He saw Sam throw the pieces of clothing into the circle and heard his brother make a slight "whoosh" noise to accompany the imaginary flames.

He grinned as he pulled his desired objects out from under the cabinet before digging a flashlight out of each of their bags. He passed a flashlight and a toilet paper roll to Sam before situating himself against the cupboard again.

"What's this?"

"Marshmallows." Dean jammed the toilet paper roll onto the end of his flashlight before holding it out over the fire pit. "All good camping trips have marshmallows." Sam struggled to get his own roll over the end of the flashlight for several minutes before Dean took the items from him and gave Sam the one he'd already set up. "Make sure you rotate it to get all sides of the marshmallow brown."

They sat in silence for a while, each rotating their marshmallow before Dean reached out and pulled a sheet off his. He pulled it quickly towards his mouth and pretended to eat it. "Mmmmm, that's good."

"Is mine done, Dean?"

Dean reached over and pulled a sheet off Sam's. Pulled it towards his mouth and then quickly doubled forward and made a spitting noise as he threw the piece in their fire pit. "I think you burned it Sammy."

"Nuh uh! Yours is burned!" Sam reached out and yanked on his, pulling several sheets off in the process.

"Hey! Don't mess with the art of mallow cooking!" He threw pieces of marshmallow at Sam and next thing he knew their toilet paper marshmallow cookout turned into an all out marshmallow war.

o0o0o0o0o

John was late getting back, much later than he'd have liked. But one could never rush a trip when it came to a black dog. It took him several tries to get his key in the lock. His eyes were blurred with sleep and he knew the scraping noise would wake Dean up.

He finally got the door open and stumbled in, expecting to hear his vigilant older son's inquiry as to how the night went. When his less than graceful entrance went undisturbed John looked up, concerned, to the bed. Dean must be getting sick if he let that kind of ruckus go unchecked.

His eyes fell across the moonlit beds only to find them both not only empty but still nicely made. Adrenaline kicked in as any hint of sleep vanished from his body in lieu of his missing boys.

He was about to start screaming when he noticed a faint light coming from under the bathroom door. Unsure what both his boys would be doing in the bathroom and not in their beds at three in the morning he moved slowly to the thin door.

The door opened a little less than halfway before it caught on Dean's foot, but that was all John needed.

There underneath half of the front room curtain were his two boys.

The floor was littered with toilet paper bits and the contents of both boy's duffels. In the middle of the chaos Dean dozed against the cupboard, a lit flashlight in one hand. Sam lay against him, his small head nestled against Dean's collarbone. An oversized sweatshirt draped across Sam.

John was about to maneuver his way in so that he could move the boys to the bed when Sam's small voice broke the silence.

"Deaan."

"Mmm?" Dean's eyes stayed closed when he replied, but his head lolled towards Sam.

Sam's next words almost broke John's heart. He hadn't known it possible to love his sons anymore than he already did.

"Tha' was the bes' camping trip. Ever."


End file.
